APH Gerita The Proposal
by DarkmoonSigel
Summary: First published on Deviant Art. The Gerita version of my 'Wedding' series. Italy proposes to Germany. What happens when Germany says 'Nein? Main pairing is Germany/Ludwig and N.Italy/Feliciano with side pairings of UsUk, PruCan, ScotFran, and some Greece x Japan. Also a guest appearances made by India, Hungary, and Austria.
1. Chapter 1

APH Gerita The Proposal 1

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Recap-If you want to know what's going on, read the USUK The Proposal story arch cause the author is too lazy/busy/'insert clever excuse here' to recap all this properly. Enjoy. 3  
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"Ve~ Where is Prussia, Doitsu?"

Ludwig, the personification of Germany and currently an enjoyer of breakfast, looked up from the paper he had been happily reading to look over at the miffed Italian standing in his kitchen who was still holding an unnecessary plate in hand.

"As I told you before, bruder has gone to the Virgin Islands to perform the marriage ceremony for England and America. He will be back soon enough.", Ludwig sighed at Feliciano's still confused expression, "You do remember that the two of them were getting married, correct?"

"Of course!", Feliciano laughed, waving the notion aside, "I was just wondering why they invited Prussia and not us."

"You really don't listen to anything that I tell you, do you?", Ludwig mused, more to himself than his present company.

"Ve~?"

"Never mind. Bruder only went there to marry them as a favor.", Ludwig explained, his patience finally running out as he returned his full attention back to his paper. He was denied literary consumption by a flailing Italian who decided to cling to him, like a monkey to a banana tree.

"But Romano and I could have done that and gone to the party afterward.", Feliciano whined, put out enough to let go of his irate German, flopping his lithe body across the table with all the grace of a dead fish.

Ludwig paused in thought at this idea, eventual nodding in agreement. Ja, the Vargas twins were just as qualified, if not more so, to do such a ceremony. As per usual though, Feliciano had failed to take the entire situation into account. "Italy…..you do realize it would not just be France and America there. England would be there as well with all of his bruders.", Ludwig reminded the Italian who paled considerably.

"All of them?", Feliciano gasped in horror.

"Ja. All of them. Scotland, Wales, Ireland…..", Ludwig named off the infamous, brow heavy Celtic nations.

"Even Ireland?!", Feliciano squeaked in panic.

"Ja, especially Ireland.", Ludwig nodded quite seriously.

"Ve~!"

"So you see why it is better that bruder went…Italy?", Ludwig continued until he realized he had lost his audience. A whimper from under the table revealed the Italian's hiding spot. Ludwig flipped up the tablecloth to peek at him. He only barely avoided being hit in the face with a white flag.

"They are not coming here, so stop being weird and come on out. Your wurst will get cold.", Ludwig sighed, "And stop doing that. You are setting a bad example for the dogs."

After he was coaxed out from under the table with promises of pasta and the continued absence of UK nations, Feliciano resumed singing to himself as he finished setting the table and serving the food, the pair soon joined by Roderich(Austria)who lived in Ludwig's house along with the absent Gilbert(Prussia) and unexpectedly Elizabeta(Hungary) because mooches have a sixth sense for free food. Apparently the female nation had decided to pay her former husband a visit *cough*booty call*cough*.

Ludwig reflected that she wore the modern age well, Elizabeta looking more at home in jeans and a t-shirt than she ever had in a dress and frilly apron. She was currently wearing boxers and one of Roderich long sleeved shirts. Ludwig neither cared or passed judgment. He was quite used to freeloaders by now, having been plagued with them for over the better part of a century.

Elizabeta apparently felt the same way(the non-caring part) as she generously helped herself to the eggs, toast, and wurst, Feliciano already pouring her a cup of coffee unbidden.

"What's wrong, Sweetie?", Elizabeta asked Feliciano who still wore an oddly thoughtful look(the expression a rarity for the Italian).

"America and England are getting married. I wanted to go.", Feliciano sighed heavily, sitting down now that everyone had their food. He sipped at his coffee a touch moodily about it. Receptions were so much fun with all the music, dancing, pretty girls, and of course, the copious amounts of wonderful food.

"I know. England threatened me personally from going.", Elizabeta sighed, unhappily munching on her toast. Just because she had caught them in that closet that one time(that they knew about), had taken a one or two measly pictures(that they had managed to find on her), and had possibly sent a copy (i.e. her entire catalog) to Japan, she had been banned. Life was so unfair.

"I personally think it is quite appropriate that they kept the guest list to close family as sordid as they may be.", Roderich sniffed dryly. Elizabeta rolled her eyes at him though Ludwig nodded in agreement with the Austrian. He felt it was the proper thing to do as well.

"I still want to go. I love weddings.", Feliciano grumbled, poking at his wurst instead of eating it. Like blood to a hound, Elizabeta scented something that made her quiver in delight, her green eyes darting from the sullen Italian to the oblivious German and back again.

"Igen…It is a shame. It's not often nations get married.", Elizabeta said carefully, picking her words out well. She couldn't be too obvious about it. Ludwig was too uptight and Feliciano was too excitable. Both nations were dense but in their own special ways, "One would think it would happen more often."

"Ve~, I know. Weddings are so happy.", Feliciano smiled, his expression dreamy and vacant. Elizabeta wet her lips, nervous but determined. Roderich watched his former wife out of the corner of his eye, getting a bad feeling from this conversation.

"They are, aren't they? Happy expressions of love between two people who need to be together.", Elizabeta patiently worked the notion and the nations.

Ludwig was starting to feel vaguely uncomfortable but did not know why as he inspected his coffee cup with a suspicious eye. Too much caffeine perhaps? Italians tended to brew it strong.

Meanwhile, Elizabeta moved in for the kill…

"Italy, get me another cup of tea right now and don't dawdle about it.", Roderich ordered. Ludwig frowned over at him, disliking it when the Austrian took an empirical attitude with the Italian, though Feliciano didn't help matters by instantly jumping to his every demand.

Elizabeta's jaw dropped, turning to glare at her former husband. "This is why our marriage never worked out.", she growled, glaring acid at the Austrian who smirked subtly back at her.

"Funny…I was going to say the exact same thing.", Roderich sighed, accepting his fresh cup of tea.

"Ve~?"

"Never you mind Feliciano. Finish your wurst.", Roderich told him, pointing his fork at the Italian's neglected breakfast.

"Don't we have any pasta?", Feliciano pouted down at his sausage which was rapidly becoming colder.

"No, we do not!", Roderich snapped, huffing into his tea.

Ludwig ignored them all, endeavoring to focus all of his attention on his paper. He lived with crazy people or more accurately crazy people forced themselves upon him. It was a rather unfair situation actually in his opinion. At least this particular morning was somewhat quiet and coherent without Gilbert around, sobering up or hungover. Both conditions were noisy, just with a different mixture of curses and states of undress attached to either state.

Feliciano quickly fed his remaining wurst to Germany's dogs when he thought no one was looking(Ludwig let it slide-he was almost done with his reading). He hated cold wurst. Luckily for him, the dogs knew this as well. At least one if not all three canines were always around the Italian during mealtimes and cooking(even though Ludwig had expressively forbidden Feliciano from feeding his beloved dogs).

"I'm going to go see Romano. I'll be back soon!", Feliciano suddenly announced, leaning over Ludwig to place kisses on both of his pale cheeks before running off.

"Oh dear…", Roderich murmured, getting a very bad feeling.

"Oh Igen…", Elizabeta grinned, rubbing her hands together.

Ludwig rolled his eyes. Crazy nations, he was surrounded by crazy nations intent on making him not only late but insane.

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"So what the hell is your problem you had to come all the way here to bother me about it?", Romano(S. Italy) grumped, having been woken up far too early from his siesta by his overly excitable twin.

"I have been thinking fratello…", Feliciano began.

"Fucking hell! Mio Dio, what I have I told you about that?!", Romano snapped, giving his other half a sharp look.

"What is going on with my cute little Italy?", Antonio(Spain)smiled, joining the two with a bottle of wine and some glasses in hand.

"He's been thinking!", Romano accused, grabbing the wine to pull the cork out with his teeth. He chugged a healthy bit of it straight from the bottle.

"How nice. What have you been thinking about?", Antonio asked the younger Italian kindly.

"Getting married.", Feliciano told his stunned audience. Romano spit out all of wine in a crimson fountain of vino spray, choking on the remains of it. Antonio continued to smile pleasantly at him though, totally unaffected by the news.

"Such bad manners, Lovi.", Antonio tsked, as he patted the still gasping Italian on the back. Romano shook him off to tackle his brother.

"Who the hell to!?", Romano roared, "Who had the balls to propose to you without asking me first!? Was it that potato bastard?! I'm going to kill him dead!".

"No, no, no!", Feliciano said quickly, curling up into a defensive fetal position, "I just want to get married."

"Oh…", Romano drooped in relief, before rallying again, "Why the hell do you want to go and do a stupid thing like that?!"

"I think it would be nice and Hungary said it was an expression of love.", Feliciano managed out weakly.

"I'm sure she did, that sneaky bitch.", Romano growled with a roll of his eyes. Hungary! He should have known a yaoi rat plotting when he smelled one. This whole thing stunk of her fetish planning.

"You don't want to get married idiot.", Romano sighed, getting off his twin to help him up.

"I don't?", Feliciano asked worriedly. He was pretty sure that he did.

"No, you don't. Trust me.", Romano yawned, pitching a glare at the nearby Spaniard. He was already bored with this conversation, "Who would want to marry you anyway?".

"Germany.", Feliciano said without hesitation, making Romano turn red with rage agian.

"Anyone but that stupid potato bastard!", Romano battle cried, doing a good impression of Godzilla as he stomped back and forth across Spain's porch, kicking furniture out of his way.

"So messy, Lovi.", Antonio sighed.

"Well, it's never going to happen!", Romano spat out, more to himself than the others in an attempt to calm himself down, "He's so stupid and fucking German.".

"He already did.", Feliciano said absently, throwing that bucket of gasoline onto the fire.

"…"

"…"

"WHAT!? WHEN!?"

"Ve~, a while ago. I turned him down though.", Feliciano said, studying the sky with a thoughtful expression.

"Oh Grazie a Dio, la Vergine Maria e il dolce del bambino Gesu, you do have some fucking brains.", Romano almost passed out in relief.

"Why did you do that Italy? I thought that you loved Germany.", Antonio asked curiously.

"Who fucking cares!? He said no! Let's focus on the good part of that story!", Romano fumed.

"I knew he didn't actually mean it. He was just doing it because a book told him to.", Feliciano shrugged.

"I'm going to fucking kill him!", Romano jumped up.

"Ve~?"

"No one proposes to my baby brother just because a book tells him to! What the fuck!?", Romano barreled forward or at least started to.

"So noisy, Lovi.", Antonio sighed, catching the Italian stallion at him waist. With a deft move, he bodily sat on top of the smaller flailing nation with long practiced ease. "So what are you going to do about it now then? It doesn't seem like he is going to do so again anytime soon.", he wondered aloud to the other Italian.

That was a very good question actually, one that made the Italian pause, his golden eyes lingering on some passing clouds. Feliciano thought about Ludwig and all that he meant to him as his mind went on a ramble.

…Feliciano loved the awkward German dearly, despite all his rules and regulations…In a way, Ludwig was everything he wanted to be and more…..He was brave in the face of danger. Feliciano had seen him first hand in firefights and in hand to hand battle. The German was fearless when it came down to it…Ludwig was intelligent about so many different things as well. He knew how to fix things without even trying. He could practically look at something broken and it would mend itself….He was just so efficient and practical and reliant and so perfect….Despite all his faults and even his betrayals, Ludwig had remained loyal and stood steadfastly beside him through thick and thin….That despite the German being mean and gruff with him sometime, that Ludwig had this beautiful, gentle side to him as well. It was very rarely seen by other nations, but Feliciano was one of the few who got to see it regularly…..It almost made Feliciano weep for joy that someone like that could ever want to be with him…..love him….

"I guess I will just have to propose to him then.", Feliciano said softly, a small smile on his lips.

"Good idea.", Antonio agreed readily.

"Damn it, are you two idiots smoking crack!? It's a fucking horrible idea!", Romano yelled. He was ignored.

"You will have to be forward about it though.", Antonio suggested, "Germany is not the most…receptive of nations. Sometimes you have to spell it out for him.".

"Ve~ I know.", Feliciano nodded in agreement sagely, in one of the most horrible cases of the pots calling the kettle black ever.

"I think you should go talk to India then. He is very good about such things.", Antonio suggested, the Spaniard remembering the Indian's show stopping entrance from America's most recent Halloween party.

"This is such a bad fucking idea! Damn it, are you two assholes even listening to me?!", Romano offered his own.

"Thank you, Big Brother Spain!", Feliciano sang sweetly as he kissed Antonio on the cheek.

"This is so exciting, Lovi!", Antonio told his captive.

"Wish me luck fratello.", Feliciano told his twin, deciding against a parting kiss because Romano looked like he would bite him. He patted him on top of his head instead.

"Go to hell bastard!", Romano snarled back.

"Ve~ Close enough.", Feliciano decided, blowing his twin and Antonio a goodbye kiss.

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Ludwig was starting to get worried. Feliciano had been gone for some time now. That in of itself was not unusual. The Italian would come and go as he pleased much like a cat would but he was now in the habit of letting Ludwig know when and where just in case he needed to be rescued. The German hadn't heard anything from the wayward Italian though in over a week and all of his calls were going straight to voicemail. Ludwig was considering the extreme option of tracking the GPS in Feliciano's phone when there was a knock on the front door. He opened it, expecting it to be Feliciano for whatever reason, until he realized that the Italian wouldn't have bothered knocking. He didn't bother wearing pants half the time so why would he concerned with such a silly concept as knocking?

Registering the thought belated, Ludwig opened the door to a world of color, movement, and a wall of sound.

At least a hundred dancers stood out on his formerly immaculate front lawn, performing complex routines full of various flips, much shaking of bells, and twirls of brilliantly colored silk.

Knife throwers juggled daggers back and forth in glitter arches to form passageways made of spinning blades. All the while, eaters of the flame blew out blazing towers of living fire skyward.

A dozen elephants painted bright pink and accented with an intricate gold pattern posed on their large flat hind feet as they raised their long trunks high overhead, blaring out their presence in perfect time to the music.

Creating an almost tangible barrier of sound, musicians roamed this event as well in packs, moving with the dancers and weaving around and about the other performers effortlessly as if their instruments gave them safe passage through the controlled chaos.

All of this wove itself together into a song, one that the nation of India was singing in his native tongue with unrestrained passion as he shimmied down the walkway towards a stunned German. The foreign nation was dressed in a snazzy three piece suit, the contrasting black and red of it worn considerably well by him especially when paired with the fedora. India smiled at Ludwig at he continued to sing, signaling over a pair of swamis from the pulsing crowd. A decorated length of tri colored silk was held out between the dusky holy men who performed a series of complex movements that made their bodies bend and twist at painful looking angles. They whispered chants and incantations from wind burned lips as the silk folded on its own accord from off the tips of their withered fingers to disappear completely, taking the swamis with it. They were replaced by a pair of supple brown skinned beauties with dark sparkling eyes and deft hands that fanned away the cloud of red smoke that took the silk's place to reveal the missing nation.

Feliciano appeared before Ludwig on bended knee dressed in his own dark suit, though his accent color was a fine dark green that contrasted wonderfully with his auburn hair and golden eyes. He presented the German with a small velvet box in hand, its top open already to reveal its contents. On the bed of plush midnight, a large ruby set in a band of heavy gold reflected back the light with deep bloody color.

Everything came to such an abrupt halt, so suddenly it was near deafening and so quiet you could hear a mouse fart. Dancers held poses, musicians froze mid note, and even the elephants seemed to hold their breathes.

"Ve~, will you marry me?"

Ludwig blinked slowly, his face expressionless and rather pale as his brain attempted to process everything he had just seen and heard, the mental trip ending with him staring down at a very hopeful looking Italian nation presenting him with an engagement ring.

"Nein."

India and Feliciano jumped back in surprise as the front door was slammed shut in their faces.

"Tough break, kid.", India sighed, patting the smaller nation's shoulder before turning back to the Bollywood event that was happening smack dab in the middle of Germany, "Ok people, let's break this all down. Everyone grab something! The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can all go home! Before we start though, good job! Everyone give themselves a hand!"

Matthew(Canada) and Gilbert(Prussia) watched in stunned silence with a healthy helping of disbelief as the Indian troupe began to clear out.

"Is it always like this, eh?", Matthew asked after a moment. The pair had arrived in time to see the whole thing from door open to flat out refusal.

"Well, the elephants are new but I think it's a very nice touch. West usually goes with turquoise gazelles in drag.", Gilbert deadpanned, lighting a cigarette. It was promptly stolen by a passing monkey much to the Prussian's annoyance.

"How am I supposed to know? I will remind you who my family is. The twin brother who plays video games with his alien roommate and not the 'cross the border' kind, the 'out of this world' kind. My former father figures one of which talks to fairies and ghosts on a regular basis while the other can pull wine and roses out of nowhere and lose all his clothes at the same time…..", Matthew ranted, going to the Canadian's greatest fallback weapon in the face of such sarcasm.

"Good point.", Gilbert conceded quickly, ever the good soldier who knew a lost cause when he saw one. The pair fell into silence as they attempted to navigate through the departing performers and the elephant poo piles.

"Hey Gil….", Matthew said as he waited patiently for the Prussian get done scraping off his shoe. Gilbert was in a pissed off mood now, his favorite boots ruined and most of his cigarettes stolen by nicotine addicted monkeys.

"Ja?", the Prussian grumbled, finally giving his footwear up for dead as he threw his DOA patient over shoulder, followed closely by its mate. He was never going to get that smell out.

"Where did Italy go?"

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Ludwig stayed in his room for a long time, laying flat out on his mattress so that he could stare up at the ceiling. He wasn't really feeling anything other than numb so getting an eyeful of drywall was just fine with him for right now. Drywall was simple, flat, and not a sensory overload wrapped around an indecent proposal.

Only the delicious smell of something cooking brought the German back to his senses, though he cringed inwardly at it for a moment. He thought at first it was Feliciano in his kitchen but his nose was insisting that it was not, the odors new and unfamiliar. Not one to argue with his senses, Ludwig went downstairs toward the lingering scents, practically ready for anything to jump out at him. He relaxed somewhat upon hearing his own bruder's loud, grating voice as it conversed with someone Ludwig didn't recognize. He was still willing to accept this as a safe situation though…

….It didn't help his frayed state of mind when a baby polar bear waddled out of the kitchen to plop its fuzzy butt down at his feet. The tiny animal looked up with a quizzing look at the German, tilting his head to the side.

"Who are you?", it asked at first in English. When Ludwig didn't answer, the bear switched it to beautifully delivered French. The animal repeated the question a third time in passable German.

Ludwig took a deep breathe, turned about sharply on his heel, and went back to his room to calm get as many guns as he could carry. He drew the line at multilingual talking animals. Everyone had their breaking point. Apparently this one was his.

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Sneaking back down the stairs, Ludwig found that the bear was thankfully gone. Ludwig decided to take the offensive as he dive rolled into his own kitchen, dual pistols drawn and cocked at its occupants.

Gilbert raised a pale eyebrow at him in return, not even bothering to get out of his seat or put down his beer. A tall blonde by the stove gamingly put up his hands with a bemused expression. He was wearing Feliciano's apron, the white one with the frills on it and had a spatula in his hand. Ludwig was sure he had never seen him before, though he did remind the German of someone. Something sputtered angrily from a pan on the stovetop, the stranger glancing over at it in concern. Ludwig noted dully that the polar bear was missing from this room as well.

"What the hell is going on?", Ludwig growled out, his aim never wavering in the slightest as he slowly stood up.

"Why are you asking me? I just got back. I've been on vacation, remember?", Gilbert grinned crookedly at his younger brother, "And West…..if you don't get that damn gun out my face, I will personally break every bone in your fucking hand in alphabetical order."

"Understood.", Ludwig swallowed hard, quickly holstering the firearms, "But who is that? And why is he making…um…..?"

"Pancakes.", Matthew supplied helpfully, turning his attention back to the cooking hotcakes on the stove.

"Danke. Why is he making pancakes in my kitchen?", Ludwig finished.

"Since you asked so nicely, that is Birdie.", Gilbert said with great conviction, Gilbird nodding confirmation. The Prussian was promptly smacked in the back of his head with a spatula. "Otherwise known as Matthew and Canada.", he managed to finish grandly.

"Who?", Ludwig asked, not missing a beat. He was met with a sharp crimson glare.

"Holy shit! How do you put up with that crap?! It's only like the third time that I have heard it and I already want to go beat in someone's face with a tire iron!", Gilbert bitched at the tall blonde who apparently was a nation called Canada. Ludwig reasoned to himself that he must be a new nation. He surely would have met him at a world meeting or at least crossed passes with him once or twice before now.

"You get used to it.", Matthew shrugged good naturedly as he stacked the pancakes and drowned they in butter and maple syrup. He was presently so tickled pink he didn't care at all about Ludwig's question or blank stare. Matthew was finally on a long overdue vacation on invite from a fellow nation(the thought of that alone made him squee) who not only knew who he was, saw him, and talked to him without any prompting, but even better was awesome in bed. What more could he ask for?

"Es tut mir leid.", Ludwig apologized though he wasn't exactly sure what for but considering he had just pulled a loaded firearm on the Canadian, the German figured he was due something.

"Birdie is making pancake cause they're awesome, even more awesome than you West, and anyway, you told me to bring something back from the Virgin Islands.", Gilbert winked up at Matthew who rolled his eyes back at the albino.

Ludwig face palmed with a deep groan, dragging his hands down his face, "A seashell. I meant a seashell, not another nation."

The Prussian stopped devouring his pancakes to set his fork down with a definite click on the hardwood table, the noise making Ludwig stand at attention as eyes the color of spilled blood locked onto him.

"Herr Schtick too far up you ass again, baby bruder? Cause you are being a rude piece of scheiße to my guest, which is a guest of our mutual house. Perhaps you want me to relieve you of your obstruction with the heel of my boot.", Gilbert snarled, obviously tired of his younger brother's manners or lack there of. He didn't have guests over often(Francis and Antonio didn't count and hadn't for centuries) that he actually wanted to impress so of course today would be the day that his usually stoic bruder would lose his shit. The German was taller and easily outweighed the smaller, leaner Prussian in muscle mass alone, but minor things like that had never stopped Gilbert. Ludwig readied himself for the inevitable assault, his muscle tensing almost painfully.

Both nations jumped though when a spatula was whipped between the two, the metal of which neatly tapped them both across the forehead with a neat flick of the holder's wrist. "Breakfast first while it's still hot. Kill each other afterward.", Matthew ordered, negotiating peace with baked goods and kitchen cutlery.

"Es tut mir leid…again", Ludwig mumbled, his cheeks reddening in embarrassment as he apologized for the second time that day to the exact same nation in such a short time period. Whether he knew who 'what's his face' was or not, Gilbert was right about the mistreatment of their guest.

"I have decided that you can't have any of Birdie's awesome pancakes as your punishment.", Gilbert commanded with a definite shake of his snowy head, the movement echoed by Gilbird.

"Gil…..", Matthew whispered softly, the Canadian not wanting to cause a rift. He ran a light hand down the Prussian's back, making the older nation shiver and melt into the touch.

Small thing that it was, it did wonders as the albino noticeably relaxed. "Fine. Maybe one then….but no maple syrup!"

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"So what did you do wrong?", Gilbert asked after things had calmed down and Ludwig had been fed some pancakes(more that one and with maple syrup-Matthew had been quite firm about it).

Ludwig gaped back at his older bruder. "Me! I did nothing! It was Italy with all the singing and the dancing.", Ludwig said, starting to look shell shocked again, his voice going all raspy. His forehead hit the table with an audible, pain filled sound, Gilbert smacking the hell out of the back of it.

"Snap out of it soldier!", Gilbert ordered, "Now tell me what the little pasta muncher wanted so awesome me can fix it for you.".

Sighing and trying to ignore his growing headache, Ludwig rubbed the back of his pounding skull as he went through his very limited options. Now that the Prussian knew about it, Gilbert would just beat the answers out of him if Ludwig stalled for too long.

"Italy proposed.", Ludwig managed out. It was all still so scarring to him. He was jerked forward again, but this time Gilbert was just slapping him on the back good naturedly.

"Kesesese! Hot damn! About time too! I was beginning to think that I would never get to see you walk down the aisle.", Gilbert laughed.

"Bruder…."

"He's a sweet boy but I've met corpses with more personality…..", Gilbert told Matthew, totally ignoring the growing amount of rage that was building up in the nation right beside him.

"Bruder…I said 'nein'.", Ludwig gritted out through clenched teeth. Gilbert stared back at the German for a long moment of tersely held breathe.

"Why the hell did you do a stupid thing like that?!", Gilbert exploded into action, immediately putting Ludwig in a headlock.

"Because Italy wasn't being serious! He only wanted to get married because England and America were and so that he could have a party!", Ludwig growled out as he struggled to maneuver himself free. Gilbert was slick as oil though, moving to block his escape attempts at every turn.

"You really are as dumb as a box of rocks.", Gilbert sighed, lighting a cigarette while he incapacitate his sibling one handed just to piss him off further.

"Excuse me but may I say something?", Matthew interrupted timidly, not exactly sure if his question would be heard. Both of the nations looked up at him curiously though, nodding their consent.

"I don't get talked to, my presence acknowledged, or even heard that often but I do listen. I listen a lot and get to see things other miss or just don't see at all. I'm actually quite good at it…..", Matthew began shyly, "….but I digress, this isn't aboot me….um…anyway, it has been my observation that even though Italy can be a little…"

"Flaky?", Ludwig hazarded a guess.

"Stupid, moronic, retarded…", Gilbert added.

"Absent minded.", Matthew corrected tactfully, cutting in, "I don't think he would do something like this lightly."

"You have to admit though that his timing is suspicious.", Ludwig pointed out.

"Sometime people and even nations need something to spur them forward towards a decision…..to give them courage if you will.", Matthew shrugged.

"But all the dancing…..mein Gott, the dancing…", Ludwig shuddered.

"That was a bit over the top but I still think that Italy's heart was in the right place.", Matthew smiled, "It's pretty obvious for anyone to see that he thinks the world of you. He's just a little dumb aboot it is all.".

"Oh…I guess I can see your point…..", Ludwig sighed. The Canadian's word rang true in his head, the German remembering numerous events involving the Italian that absolutely made no sense. The time that Feliciano had traveled across Switzerland's borders pantless just to confirm Ludwig's feeling for him came immediately to mind. It was idiotic and pointless, but so Italy. The fool wore his heart on his sleeve and let it lead him where even angels feared to tread just to hear a simple answer from his beloved's lips. Other things sprang to mind as well-Feliciano dancing barefoot in his kitchen singing to himself, the feel of bare sun kissed skin heating his pale own in the early hours of cool mornings, the sweet and spicy tang of the Italian's kisses flavored by his favorite sauce, the smell of wine and spices that seemed to linger in the air whenever the other was near….

Ludwig jumped up, his body tense and his face grim as his hands gripped the sides of his platinum head, the German in an obvious state of panic. " Scheiße…I told him 'Nein!'…..I slammed the door in his face….", Ludwig whispered, horrified with himself.

"Ja. You sure did. Right in his hopeful little face.", Gilbert adding, being the rock of emotional support he was famed to be.

"What do I do!? I've got to go find Italy!", Ludwig started to pace, his normally order centric brain going haywire.

The German nation was grabbed by his shoulders and brought it a sudden halt. "Hold your horses there, West, before you give yourself an aneurism. Pasta boy will come back on his own. Just give him some time.", Gilbert told him firmly, "Don't go wearing a hole in the floor yet."

"And what if he doesn't!?", Ludwig asked worriedly. The two Germanic nations turned to Matthew for some more words of wisdom.

"Er…..It's better to have loved and lost, eh?", Matthew offered, caught off guard by all the sudden attention.

"Ficken."


	2. Chapter 2

APH Gerita The Proposal 2

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Recap-If you want to know what's going on, read the APH Gerita The Proposal 1 cause the author is too lazy/busy/'insert clever excuse here' to recap all this properly. Enjoy. 3  
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Romano didn't know what to do.

Feliciano kept going through cycles of sobbing, drinking heavily, and staring at nothing as if he were looking into a dark fathomless void. He was currently revisiting the sobbing uncontrollably part of it all. Romano had offered him gelato, wine, espresso, and even pasta of any and all kinds to shut him the hell up but none of it had worked(not even the pasta). Romano was out of ideas.

"Veneziano, I'm fucking begging you. Quit crying and talk to your big brother. Come one. You can tell me anything.", Romano tried once more, the pair currently sitting on their shared bed. Feliciano was curled up in a small shaking ball of misery with his older brother stroking his back. Feliciano unfurled enough to look up at Romano through swollen red eyes.

"Fratello…..I have made a horrible mistake…..one I can not take back….", Feliciano managed out briefly before returning to his noisy(and rather messy) laments.

"Mistake?! You didn't kill someone did you?!", Romano asked surprised. His brother made mistakes all of the time. Why would this one be any different or effect him so greatly? "Cause I know a guy who can take care of that for you with no questions asked.", he continued.

"No! I…..", Feliciano choked out, caught off guard by the offer and now more than a little worried about his twin and his associations.

"Then what? Did you steal something? Are you getting blackmailed? What is it!? I'm dying over here!", Romano fumed, his twin way too slow in answering for his own personal liking and mental well being.

"I proposed to Germany.", Feliciano sniffled, finally wiping his face off with the back of his hand. It didn't seem right for him to say his beloved's human name now.

"You fucking idiot! How could you….wait, hold up…..Why are you crying about it then?", Romano asked confused.

"He said 'Nein.'!", Feliciano wailed, reliving the horrible moment when his heart broke to the sound of a slamming door.

"Fucking bastard! I'll kill….um…..Does that mean 'no'?", Romano paused mid-rant, not one for learning even basic German.

"Ve."

"That fucking bastard! I'll kill him! No one turns down my baby brother!", Romano roared, shaking his fist in the generally direction of the sky.

"Who are you killing now, Lovi?", Antonio asked, the Spaniard entering the room with a basket of churros. He had heard that an Italy was down and nothing cured a woeful Italian like a hot sugary churro.

"That fucking bastard!", Romano told him with many excited hand gestures.

"There are so many…Oh well…..", Antonio sighed. He sat down on the excitable Italian to present the basket of fried baked goods to the other doleful Italian. "Little Italy, why are you crying?", he asked.

"Germany said 'Nein'! What should I do?", Feliciano asked sorrowfully, his grief not deterring his appetite or his love of churros as he nommed on the fried dough.

"About what?', Antonio asked, not exactly filled in on current events. He ignored the nation that raged underneath him.

"Germany!", the Italians yelled simultaneously.

"I don't know.", Antonio shrugged, "Why don't you go ask your amigo Japan? He knows you both so well, better than myself or Romano."

Feliciano looked back in wonder at the Spaniard as realization dawned on his mind like a bright new morning on the dark side of the moon, despite all of Romano's more colorful objections on the matter. "Grazie Big Brother!", Feliciano yelled, jumping off the bed to run out of the room like a fire had been lit under his butt.

"So cute, Lovi.", Antonio cooed down at his seat.

"Get off me, you dumb bastard!", Romano yelled back, wiggling around and generally not being a very good cushion.

"I think not. I want to give our little Italy a head start.", Antonio told him, digging around in his pocket to produce a small laidback turtle, "Say 'Hola' to Mr. Turtle, Lovi.".

"Fuck you, Mr. Turtle. Fuck you up your stupid turtle ass.", Romano said flatly to the reptile. Antonio took back his pet with a disapproving look, his hand moving to cover its ears(or at least where he thought the turtle's ears were located).

"So mean, Lovi.", Antonio said with a sad shake of his head. Mr. Turtle didn't care, the reptile going back to sleep. He had been cussing at the overly loud Italian for years.

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Kiku(Japan) wasn't surprised in the slightest to find Feliciano in his home helping himself to his kitchen. The Italian's somber expression was disturbing sight though and one that Kiku had rarely seen.

"Greetings Italy-kun.", Kiku nodded at his old friend, "I see you have made yourself at home once again. I apologize in advance that there is no pasta here for you.".

"I know!", Feliciano groaned, throwing his hands up in the air, signaling his defeat, "Why wouldn't you have it!?"

"Because my good friend, you make a mess of my kitchen whenever you come over and then leave it for me to clean up.", Kiku smiled, hiding the expression behind the sleeve of his kimono. Feliciano didn't bother to deny it, the nation wandering off into Kiku's garden with a sigh.

"He seems down.", Heracles(Greece) observed, following Kiku in with the rest of his groceries.

"I know.", Kiku added softly, "It is most troubling.".

"Go talk to him. I'll make dinner. You can tell me all about it later then.", Heracles said, pushing the smaller nation toward the mopey Italian's direction. Kiku gave the tall Greek an opaque look back which was met with an easy smile. Heracles leaning over to kiss Kiku's forehead tenderly. "You know you are dying to find out.", he smirked, the Asian's cheeks growing hotly red at the truthful accusation, "You little gossip you."

"Do not say such things. It is uncomely for us both.", Kiku managed to say with some dignity even as he moved toward the garden door, sliding it open with a simple grace. Kiku found Italy easily enough, sculpted his rock garden into a floral design, reminiscent of something from the 14th century if Kiku was not mistaken. While it was quite lovely, it still bothered the Asian nation greatly who had spent many a hour finding the perfect balance for it originally. It was going to take him all night if not several days to reset it properly.

"What is troubling you, Italy-kun? It is rare to see you here without Germany-kun.", Kiku asked. He watched as the Italian's face clouded over at the mention of the missing nation's name. "Ah, as America would say, 'Bingo'.", he sighed.

Feliciano didn't answer though, choosing instead to curl up on a rather large decorative rock in a renewed pile of dejected misery. Kiku found himself worrying greatly about his poor garden's chi.

"I think I did something horrible…..", Feliciano whispered, "Something Germany will never forgive me for…."

"You ruined his garden's energy as well?", Kiku commented dryly.

"Ve?"

"Never mind.", Kiku sighed, "What did you do that would affront Germany-kun so?".

"I proposed."

"Ah…Congratulations?", Kiku offered.

"He said 'Nein'.", Feliciano mumbled.

"I see.", Kiku said softly, sitting down next to the whimpering Italian to let the nation cry it out for a bit, the pair soon joined by the curious Greek.

"What's going on?", Heracles asked.

"A disappointing answer to an important question.", Kiku said carefully. He didn't want to set Feliciano off again, not when it looked like he had finally calmed down a bit. Heracles nodded back sagely, no stranger to tragedy of any kind. He walked over to them to grab the weeping Italian by the shoulders, sitting the smaller nation up. Feliciano stared up at him wide eyed, surprised by the sudden action. Kiku was a bit miffed by it as well, the Greek's olive expression quite intense.

"Why?", Heracles asked seriously.

"Ve?"

"The question you have to ask yourself is 'why'. It is a very good question. All my best philosophers asked it a lot.", Heracles informed him.

"Ve?"

"Why. Try it.", Heracles imparted his wisdom, releasing the Italian. Kiku raised an eyebrow at the Greek. Other nations who had accused him of being vague had never been around Heracles long enough.

"But…I don't know the answer to that.", Feliciano admitted freely after a long(especially for him) moment of deep thought.

"Then you should go consult an oracle.", Heracles told him solemnly.

"Ve?"

"I think he means you should go speak with someone who is far more familiar in such matters of the heart.", Kiku made clear for him.

"Oh…I guess I can go do that but who should I go talk to?", Feliciano asked, wiping his cheeks off.

"In the matters of the heart, there is only one that I can think of.", Kiku winced at the thought.

Chuckling at the Asian's reaction. Heracles patted the Italian on the head. "He's right. Go to France."

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"What iz thiz? Iz thiz an Italia I zee before me at my door?! I don't know what I did but I am reaping the beautiful reward from it, oui?", Francis(France) started to coo as soon as he opened the door to view the sullen nation standing on his stoop. "But what troublez you, little one? You look zo zad!"

Before Feliciano could answer, another voice rang through the house, one that made the Italian's hair stand on end. "Wha are ye doin'? Invite tha laddie 'n already an' quit wastin' time wi' Havers.", a gruff voice called from within the house.

"Ve!", Feliciano freaked, recognizing it instantly. He had had many a nightmare about such voices and their kin, usually involving marmite.

"La, ignore him. Why do you carry your heart in your handz like it haz been broken into a million piecez?", Francis waved the voice(of doom) away with a spray of rose petals.

"Fookin 'ell! Do ye always go on like this?", the voice called back drawing nearer as it was accompanied by heavy footsteps and the smell of spicy smoke.

"VE!"

"How rude! He iz just bitter and ignorant in the wayz of love.", Francis rolled his eyes with a dramatic sigh.

"Tha's not wha' ye were sayin' na just a hauf 'n hour ago.", Scot(Scotland- So what? I'm unoriginal/lazy-bite me) smirked openly, blowing out acidy blue smoke through his nostrils. He leaned into Francis's body, wrapping his arm around the Frenchman's waist.

"VE!"

"Ach, quit yur nonsense. Ah'm fed up wi' the pairy yees idjits. Get in tha hoose an' shut the damn door already.", Scot growled, reaching over to snag the retreating Italian by the collar quite firmly. He picked the smaller nation up effortlessly as if he were a kitten, marching him into the house. Feliciano found himself casually thrown into the cushions of a settee soon enough. Scott and Francis took their own seats across from him comfortably in an opposite pile of cushions, the French nation being pulled into the Scotman's lap.

"Now Italia….what troubles you?", Francis asked, "It haz zomething to do with a certain German nation I am zhinking, oui?"

Still eyeing the red headed nation with a wary eye, Feliciano nodded silently. "Come, come. Tell big brother all about it zhen.", Francis attempted to remedy the situation. Scot shifted to get more comfortable though, sending the smaller Italian into a near flight of panic.

"Ve!", Feliciano eeped.

"Wha's he keep goin' on aboot?", Scot raised a bushy eyebrow a the trembling Italian.

"Italia is a sensitive boy.", Francis chuckled as he pet locks of unruly flame shaded hair.

"He will make me eat marmite!", Feliciano wailed, finally breaking under the stress if his flag waving was any indication.

"Why would I be doin' a thing like tha?", Scot asked with a confused frown.

"Italia…..Alba is not our dear dreary Albion…..", Francis started to say.

"Gods be praised.", Scot cut in scathingly.

"….he will not force feed you marmite or any of his other abominable cooking.", Francis finished with a sigh.

"Hey! Me cookin' is good.", Scot said, suddenly looking very annoyed.

"Oui, and if we were looking to fry up zome random entrailz ztuffed with zoggy gruel, then I'm zure you would excel at it, mon ami. In the civilized world though we do not refer to zhat as cooking.", Francis sniffed with a curl of his upper lip. He was met with a cloud of silvery smoke to the face.

"Ach, I be seein' why ye an' his royal nibs get on so well.", Scot snorted.

"Rosbif azide, Italia calm yourzelf and tell uz what troublez you. Alba may ztill may prove to be uselezz but my heart iz always open to you.", Francis smiled, ignoring his seat entirely now.

Feliciano stared down at his shaking hands, his teeth worrying the meat of his bottom lip. Not knowing what else to do, he slowly recounted the events which had previously occurred in Germany that had led to his sorry state of being. Francis listened intently to the small shaking nation, his face growing serious from the telling of it. Scot laughed out loud at certain parts, his mirth obvious about the entire situation.

"My dear zweet Italia…..Where ever did you get zuch an abzurd idea az that?", Francis asked when the nation was done with his tale, trailing off to stare down at his shaking hands.

"España said I should be forward…..", Feliciano whispered in a fragile tone. Feliciano felt his chest start to fall into itself from all the pressure he had been holding it out against. The other nation startled as the Italian suddenly burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably.

"La, that explains it all, zay no more. While Antonio has ze passion for love but he haz none of the artistry needed for zuch a delicate task.", Francis enlightened as he got up from the Scotsman. He sat down next to Feliciano to pull the smaller nation into his own lap, the Italian giving in totally to soak the French nation's shoulder with salty moisture. Francis winced as his snowy silk shirt was ruined, pushing onward with his amorous advice.

"All iz not lost zhough, my dear one. Germany iz merely embarrazzed. Thiz will pazz. Be patient with him and apologize to your love. When you do zo though, apologize for the execution, not ze proposal itself. Thiz iz very important to remember.", Francis told him gently, rubbing comforting circles into the Italian's narrow back. Feliciano released the death grip on the Frenchman's shoulder to stare back at him with a tear stained face.

"Aye! Man up an' ask 'im agin, all proper like.", Scot added, blowing rings of smoke for his own personal amusement.

"Again! No, not again!", Feliciano shrieked, staring back at the Scotsman wildly. Francis nodded in agreement though much to the Italian's great distress.

"Alba iz, zurprisingly enough, correct. If you do not, it will be but a farce. Do you not zee what will happen? It will zeem that your intentionz were never pure to begin with. If that happenz, your beloved Deutschland will be more zhan embarrazzed. He will be hurt. Now do you underztand, Italia?", Francis asked patiently, brushing stray hair out of the Italian's face. Feliciano hung his head in response, the other nation's words ringing in it repeatedly. In the end, this was something more than just a simple unanswered question. It was about Germany's feelings as well. The dancing, the singing...the elephants…had not been the way to do it, he knew that now. Germany was not one such flashy things and never had been. If anything, the German was demure and conservative. His nature had never been one for flash and hype.

"Ve…..", Feliciano sighed dully with a slight nod of his graceful head.

"Be brave, little Italia. Love iz ztronger zhan hate or even the embarrazzment of a German.", Francis smiled.

"Guid luck with tha'.", Scot snorted, "Ye'll be needin' it, laddie."

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It had been well over a week since the Bollywood proposal extravaganza had taken place out on his front lawn. Ludwig had not received a hint to the Italian's whereabouts, the small nation in the wind. No one else seemed to know where he was either, though Kiku had hinted that he had been visited by him. No amount of questions could get the destination of Italian's wanderings out of his old friend though.

Ludwig tried not to let it bother him, his lover's absence, but it was all beginning to wear on him bit by bit. His wurst began to lose its hearty taste and his beer its golden flavor. His house seemed to grow chillier with each passing day and even worse, silence began to fester in its corners. The sun of his world had slipped away from him, leaving Ludwig's world behind to suffer in the still of darkness. Had it always been so cold here…so quiet in this place the German found himself wondering more often than naught.

Ludwig carried on as per usual though his heart was in it as he merely went through the motions of life. He performed his duties well enough though he felt void and empty in his tasks. Gilbert and his new lover(what's his face) tried to cheer him up, asking Ludwig to join them for meals and such. They were like ghosts to him though, figments belonging to the waking world he was no longer a part of. The only reprieve Ludwig got from this dull existence was in sleep. At least in slumber, he would dream and in dreaming he would be with Italy, his little love and the sun to his moon.

Ludwig woke regrettably from his sleep, his chest feeling unusually heavy in his waking. His blue eyes slit open to meet gold that studying him back candidly. Feliciano lay on top of him, his small lithe body a perfect fit to his own muscular one. His skin was so smoothly warm against the coolness of his own, like summer's own breathe thawing his very core. Ludwig raised his arms cautiously to start trailing his calloused fingers down a bare narrow back with light hesitant touches. If he woke up too much, this dream would end and it was such a good one at the moment, so real to his every whim. The vision of loveliness leaned forward in response, slim fingers reaching up to caress the lines of his face, his strong jaw line, his high cheekbones, his thin lips with achingly slow movements until the radiant figment ended the distance between them entirely to press plush lips to cool ones.

It only took him a moment to realize that Feliciano was very much real, his hot tongue flicking past the tight line of his lips, tasting like spices and rich wines. Ludwig gasped, his arms tightening around his lover as he deepened the kiss. He rolled them, trapping the smaller Italian beneath his larger frame. Ludwig was so unsure about so many things but he knew that Feliciano was very warm and most importantly, there with him, looking as relaxed as always.

"I-I'm glad you came back.", Ludwig stammered, trying not to feel too self conscious as they parted, the pair panting in the same space of air. It was only them in this place after all. Admitting it would be fine. Gold eyes peered up at him in surprise.

"Why wouldn't I, Doitsu?", Feliciano asked, obviously perplexed by his lover's statement.

Ludwig licked his suddenly very dry lips. "Because…..I said 'nein'.", he muttered, his pale brow furrowing in his own personal confusion. From all that he had read and had observed, most situations similar to this one ended with a breakup or at the very least, a separation.

"Oh that….", Feliciano shrugged dismissively. Ludwig almost sighed in relief, his earlier notions confirmed about the Italian's actual seriousness on the matter. He was surprised at how much it hurt though. Feliciano had been flippant about the proposal just like everything else. In the end, it didn't mean anything to him at all.

"….I will just have to do better next time.", Feliciano finished cheerfully, interrupting the German's morose thoughts.

"What 'next time'? There will be a 'next time'?", Ludwig fumbled, getting bad flashbacks of pink elephants and rather rude monkeys.

"Of course! I know what I did wrong now. Big Brother France explained it all to me.", Feliciano smiled sweetly, his hands reaching up to cling around the German's neck. He pulled him down on top of him, enjoying the full weight of his lover on him. It made him feel so safe.

"France! You told France about it!", Ludwig groaned though he let himself settle against the smaller nation.

"Yes but only because Japan was no help.", Feliciano explained.

"And Japan…..", Ludwig sighed, breathing in his lover's spicy scent-tingling rosemary, smooth basil, and sweet marjoram.

"And then Greece suggested I go to see France.", Feliciano continued, oblivious to Ludwig's suffering as the German's cheeks lit up with new color. Feliciano's lips caught the arch of the neck he nuzzled, his teeth and tongue tasting the coolness of moon lit skin. He trailed down to the graceful hollow of collarbones to lay silken devotions at its base.

"Greece knows about it as well?!", Ludwig yelped, only partially due to his dismay. Feliciano' clever hands were working their way underneath his night garments, attempting to strip him of them. Ludwig moved away from Feliciano to regain control of this odd situation. It was then he realized that the Italian was naked as per usual and scrawled out across his bed, looking absolutely fuckable against the pale of his sheets.

"Ve?"

"Italy…..is there any nation that you didn't talk to about us?", Ludwig asked, trying to remain firmly stalwart.

"I couldn't get a hold of America…"

"Wunderbar."

"….that and England scares me."

"Why were you so intent on talking to any of them about our personal business.", Ludwig finally managed out in a weak tone. Feliciano sat up with a fluid gesture, unbalancing him further. The grace of it noted by the German as a caramel body sealed the line between them, the Italian more beautiful than any statue of Cupid to him. Moonlight glinted off of auburn hair, sparking rubies from its depths. It attempted to wash out the gold of his eyes, but only succeeded in making them more brilliant in the rarity of their gem like shine.

It made what Feliciano all the more heart breaking to Ludwig though. "So that the next time I ask you to marry me, you will say 'yes'.", Feliciano answered, his slim fingers stroking at pale cheeks ever so lightly. His feather touches lingered warmly, making the German lean into it despite all his reservations.

"And if I say 'nein'?". Ludwig sighed tiredly.

"Then I'll just keep trying until you agree.", Feliciano smiled, the expression pure.

Ludwig loved it when the Italian truly smiled, when it was not the vague mask of joviality he usually wore for the world. When Feliciano smiled genuinely, no idiom of beauty could even begin to compare to its perfection. It was blinding to behold yet so entrancing one could not turn away from it.

"You could try asking me now.", Ludwig mumbled, making himself look into pools of honey gold tinted with diamond like accents from wandering moonlight. Feliciano gave him a pained expression in return, the sting of the German's rejection still fresh in his mind. Ludwig's heart burned from it, cursing himself for misspeaking so soon after their reunion. Feliciano parted the embrace of his body, though it was only to search his clothing it seemed. It still left Ludwig feeling bereft and cold. Feliciano found what he was looking for soon enough, pressing his prize to his lips as he rejoined the German on the bed.

"This was my grandfather's. I reworked it to add the stone, another prize from a long dead empire.", Feliciano murmured to Ludwig's surprise. He had forgotten how talented the Italian could be in all the various forms of art, metal working just one of his many talents.

The ring was a heavy band of rich gold, etched with the black geometric patterns the Romans so heavily favored along the length of its band. A large ruby, as deep and clear as a drop of blood, was set in its center. It was not a delicate piece of jewelry. It had seen some history, the malleable gold scarred from use and wear.

"Vuoi sposarmi?", Feliciano asked with bowed head, his voice trembling though his offering hand did not waver in the slightest, "Per favore?". Cool fingers caught his sharp chin, tilting Feliciano's head upward to meet icy blue eyes.

"Ja, Veneziano."

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Matthew woke up with a start, the Canadian's hands fumbling for his glasses. He was stilled by a pale hand on his forehead, pressing him back into the bed.

"What is going on, eh?!", Matthew asked Gilbert sleepily, the albino lighting a cigarette as he leaned up against the headboard.

"Sounds like West isn't alone tonight.", Gilbert mused, eyeing his ceiling as nightly activities above them took on a more rapid tempo, "Or sleeping again anytime soon."

"I take it Italy came back then.", Matthew grumbled into his pillow, pulling its feather stuffed brethren over his head to muffle the sound that had woken him up.

"That or we are having a serious conversation with West about his masturbation.", Gilbert snorted.

"We? Where is this 'we' coming from, hoser?", Matthew grumbled, flipping the Prussian a bird.

"But Mutter, our little boy is growing up. If we don't talk to him about these things now, then when?", Gilbert grinned, pushing the backside of his lover with the flat of his foot.

"Je m'en caliss. I'm going back to sleep."


End file.
